the Madawaska, sons of James McFarlane of Kier, upon hearing of these proceedings, went to the Chief and offered him L80 in lieu of passage money and in full of rent, but it was scornfully refused. "I don't want the money, my man," said the laird, "I wish to punish the d----d scoundrels." "Well, Chief," replied Duncan, "you will never get a copper, for this is the last offer we'll make," and to this day the Chief never received a farthing, through his own obstinacy and determination to punish. An anecdote is related of old "Bill Matheson," who was about that time Deputy Sheriff, which is worth mentioning. When Wiseman and other bailiffs failed to get the "_blister_" clapped on the defendants, Mr. William Matheson swore he would serve them. Accordingly he set out from Perth with an assistant, and reached Kennell in safety. Here he got a guide by the name of John Madigan, one of the Chief's servants. Madigan very reluctantly accompanied him, for he had a friendly feeling towards the people. Accordingly they set out. It was about the beginning of June and the mosquitos were to be found in swarms, especially in the swamps. Now, it was seven good miles to the nearest settler, John McIntyre. Madigan came with them as far as Milk's meadow, about three miles distant from the Laird's; he turned off upon a shanty road and pretended to have lost his way. Telling them to remain in the same place till he returned, Madigan, who was a bit of a wag, quickly took himself to the clearance of Mr. James McNee, the Chief's piper, and having made a smudge at its outskirts quietly rested there till evening and then approached the house, told the story of having lost his way, etc., and remained there all night. In the meantime Matheson and his man stayed in the same place where they had been left by their guide, vainly expecting his momentary return, ever and anon cheering up their spirits by frequent applications to the brandy flask, which was usually carried about the person in those anti-temperance days. At length the shades of night warned them it was time to look out. They proceeded backwards and forwards, and became involved in the swamps, wet, footsore and splashed all over with mud. Shouting was useless, for there was no one to hear them. At length they made a fire and camped out all night. In the morning Madigan returned to Kennell, told his story and feigned sickness owing to what he called his exposure. A party was instantly formed to search for the lost officers of the law. About noon they were discovered in a sad plight and brought back to Kennell, and Matheson swore he would never return on such an expedition, and he kept his word. CHAPTER VII. A DIGRESSION.